


Soft to be Strong

by GreyMichaela



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cuddling & Snuggling, Goalie Nesting (Hockey RPF), Goalies, Goalies Are Weird, M/M, Mating Bond, Nesting, Rimming, nonverbal enthusiastic consent, so much cuddling, the most accurate tag ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-17 23:23:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18974515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/pseuds/GreyMichaela
Summary: “I think Juuse’s getting ready to nest.”Pekka sets his nigiri down very carefully. “He’s what.”Roman shoves the sushi into his mouth. “He’s taking stuff from the team,” he says with his mouth full. “Have you really not noticed?”Pekka stares unseeingly at his plate. Now that he thinks about it, he realizes Roman’s right—he remembers Juuse picking up a worn T-shirt from PK’s stall just the other day. And Pekka’s favorite pair of socks has been missing for a week.“Do you think he knows?”Roman shrugs. “I thought you could talk to him.”“Why me?”Roman gives him a flat look and Pekka sags like a deflated balloon. “Fine,fine. Who do you think he’ll choose?”Roman stares at him. “You can’t be this stupid.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Real people, work of fiction, etc.
> 
> I genuinely don't know where this came from, because I'm not usually one to write nesting/bonding tropes, but HERE WE ARE. Anyway, here you will find aggressive cuddling, bonding, a whoooole lot of sex, and a healthy dollop of angst to ice the cake. I usually update every other day, although comments do make me write faster _I'm just saying_.
> 
>  
> 
> [Come hang out with me on Tumblr for all the goalie feels](http://greymichaela.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> (Sidenote: Juuse is pronounced basically like "Yoh-seh" in Finnish. Finns, feel free to correct me - I'm going off Pekka's pronunciation of it.)

It’s not Pekka who notices. To his eternal mortification, it’s _Roman,_ who takes him out for sushi after practice one day.

“Have you noticed?” he asks, dunking his California roll in the soy sauce.

Pekka winces at Roman’s sushi etiquette but doesn’t comment on it. “Noticed what?” he asks instead.

“I think Juuse’s getting ready to nest.”

Pekka sets his nigiri down very carefully. “He’s what.”

Roman shoves the sushi into his mouth. “He’s taking stuff from the team,” he says with his mouth full. “Have you really not noticed?”

Pekka stares unseeingly at his plate. Now that he thinks about it, he realizes Roman’s right—he remembers Juuse picking up a worn T-shirt from PK’s stall just the other day. And Pekka’s favorite pair of socks has been missing for a _week._

“Do you think he knows?”

Roman shrugs. “I thought you could talk to him.”

“Why me?”

Roman gives him a flat look and Pekka sags like a deflated balloon.

“Fine, _fine.”_ He takes a bite of the nigiri, thinking hard. Juuse will need a room, somewhere dark and quiet, and water and food stocked for at least a week. “Who do you think he’ll choose?” he asks after a minute.

Roman stares at him. “You can’t be this stupid.”

“Pretend I am, for one minute,” Pekka snaps, nettled. “Who do you think he’s considering?”

Roman sighs and picks up another piece of California roll, examining it like it holds the answer to Pekka’s question. “Assuming not you, I don’t know,” he finally says. “Maybe Filip?”

Pekka _growls,_ flattening his hands on the table, and Roman laughs out loud.

“Of course it’ll be you, you possessive bastard. Just… talk to him. I don’t think he realizes what’s happening.”

 

Pekka wants to wait, choose his moment, ease Juuse into it gently. He doesn’t get the chance. Juuse corners him after practice the next day. His normally calm brown eyes have a white ring around them and he’s pale, sweatier than a simple practice would account for.

“I need—” He breaks off and looks around as if being afraid of being overheard.

Pekka solves the problem by grabbing Juuse’s arm and pulling him out of the locker room, down the hall to one of the smaller conference rooms.

Juuse stumbles as if his balance is off, hugging himself as he turns. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” he whispers. He’s still got his arms wrapped around himself and he looks small in a way he never does, vulnerable and delicate.

Pekka moves before he registers the thought, gathering him close. Juuse’s breathing is rapid, warm on Pekka’s collarbone, and he fits so perfectly in Pekka’s arms, like—Pekka pushes the thought away.

“Slow, deep breaths,” he says quietly, and he can feel Juuse trying to obey. “You’re nesting, _pikkuinen.”_

Juuse pushes away at that, his eyes going even wider with panic. “No.” He shakes his head. “No, I _can’t,_ I have _years,_ I can’t nest yet—”

“But you are,” Pekka says, keeping his voice calm. “How many goalies in your family? When do they usually nest?”

“There are…” Juuse squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s trying to think. “Six of us,” he finally says. “And… not before twenty-five,” he continues. His arms are back around his ribs, as if to hold in the panic. Pekka quells the urge to reach for him. _“Never_ before twenty-five, maybe not years but I have at _least_ a year, I _can’t—”_

“You _are,”_ Pekka interrupts. “But you’re not alone. I’ll help you, okay?”

Juuse shakes his head but it’s not in denial. “What do I do, Pekka?”

“First you choose a nest-mate,” Pekka says. “Now, while you can still think.”

“You,” Juuse says immediately.

Pekka’s heart leaps even as he shakes his head. “It shouldn’t—you should pick someone else.” _Someone younger. Someone who can treat you right._

“Why?” Juuse challenges, eyes defiant and chin raised. “You know me better than anyone. We _live_ together. You know what I like, what I don’t. We—” He doubles over, clutching his stomach, and Pekka rushes to him. Juuse is drenched in sweat when he lifts his eyes. “Do you—” He swallows hard. “Do you not want to?”

Pekka _aches_ to tell him how much he wants to do this, but he keeps his mouth shut, trapping the words behind his teeth, and cups Juuse’s face with one hand. When he trusts himself to speak, he manages a smile with it. “If I’m who you want,” he says carefully, “then of course, _pikkuinen,_ of course I want to.”

“Please then,” Juuse whispers, leaning into Pekka’s hand. “Please, Pekka, I want you.”

Pekka knows the fundamental untruth in those words, knows if Juuse had any other choice he’d take it, _knows_ it’s not Pekka Juuse truly wants, but he’s here, he’s available, and… he’s weak.

“Okay,” he manages, and Juuse takes a shaky breath, laden with relief. “Come on, then, we have to tell the others.”

He has to help Juuse out of the room and into the hall, an arm around his waist as they make their slow, careful way back to the locker room.

Everyone looks up and freezes when they enter.

“Juuse’s nesting,” Pekka announces, perhaps unnecessarily.

Laviolette, on the far side of the room, jolts forward. “Juuse, what do you need?”

Juuse presses himself closer to Pekka and says nothing.

“He’s chosen me,” Pekka says. He waits for the disbelieving laughter, the chirps, but no one says anything. He very carefully doesn’t look at Roman. “Um—I have to take him home. He needs to make his nest.”

“Shirts!” Laviolette shouts, and everyone jerks into motion, dragging their shirts off or retrieving them from their laundry bags. PK takes the initiative and grabs an empty bag. He begins gathering the shirts, making the rounds and shoving each inside. When he’s done, he presents it to Pekka, who takes it with a nod he hopes conveys his gratitude. From the quirk of PK’s lips, he thinks he succeeded.

“Coach,” he says, turning to Laviolette. “I’m sorry—both goalies out—”

Laviolette pats him on the shoulder. “We have regulations in place for exactly this sort of thing,” he says. Juuse is a warm, solid weight in Pekka’s arms and he can’t wait to get him home, but he forces himself to be still and listen. “The Stars are our affiliate. We’ll pull Anton Khudobin until you’re back, and Grosenick from the Admirals will be his backup.” Laviolette hesitates. “What about you? When are you going to… y’know… nest?”

“I’m not due for several more months,” Pekka tells him. “I should be fine.”

“Good. Then go _home,_ Pekka.”

“Thank you, Coach,” Pekka says, and turns Juuse toward the door.

Juuse’s having trouble forming words by the time they get home. He goes where Pekka directs, clearly no issues with physical coordination now that their bond has been sealed, but his powers of speech seem to have deserted him. He resorts to pointing at things and pleading looks, and if Pekka thought Juuse’s big brown eyes were hard to resist before, well… he was a fool.

He watches Juuse devour the cheesecake he’d made for dessert that night, shaking his head. “Good thing you’re going to burn all that sugar back off again,” he says, and Juuse looks up and beams at him.

There’s a crumb of cheesecake on his cheek, and Pekka reaches out to wipe it off.

Juuse turns his head at the same time, pressing a kiss to Pekka’s palm.

Pekka’s breath catches and dies in his throat. _Fuck._ “I’m not going to survive this,” he whispers, more to himself than anything, and Juuse cocks his head, looking questioning. “Nothing, don’t worry,” Pekka tells him. “Come on, we need to make your nest.”

Juuse’s eyes light up and he grabs the bag Pekka had set by the door. He bounces down the hall, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure Pekka’s following, and heads, not for his room, but for the small den they use for late-night tv watching. Juuse loves Game of Thrones, although Pekka’s indifferent to it. Still, he watches every episode with him and joins in the theorizing after, just to watch Juuse’s eyes sparkle as he waves his hands and describes his favorite scenes.

Inside, Juuse stands for a minute, surveying the furniture arrangement with hands on his hips. Finally he shakes his head and grabs one end of the huge couch, pulling it around so its back is to the door in the small sunken space.

Pekka’s not sure what he’s doing or how to help, but Juuse doesn’t seem to need him anyway, pushing and shoving the couch into position. Then he straightens and nods, clearly satisfied, and grabs the bag. He spreads the shirts on the floor, over a space about ten feet by ten feet, and Pekka makes a noise.

Juuse looks up instantly, worry on his brow.

“It’s okay,” Pekka tells him. “It’s just… this is your nest, right?”

Juuse nods, smiling like the sun.

“And you want me in it?” Pekka asks.

Juuse’s smile dims slightly and his nod is more uncertain. Pekka rounds the couch to cup his face again.

“I want to be here,” he says, willing Juuse to believe him. “But—” He looks at the floor and grimaces. “Nesting on nothing but carpet and a few T-shirts for a few days is going to be bad for my old bones.”

Juuse frowns, chewing on the problem, and then brightens. He grabs Pekka’s hand and drags him from the den, down the hall past his bedroom to Pekka’s suite. Inside, he pulls the sheets and blankets off the mattress, dropping them in a careless heap, and then takes hold of the corner of the mattress itself. He hesitates, looking up at Pekka as if for permission.

“You want mine?” Pekka asks. “Not yours? Wouldn’t yours be more… I don’t know… familiar?”

Juuse shakes his head hard, tightening his grip on the mattress. His eyes are pleading again, and Pekka sighs.

“I hope you never figure out just how much power that expression has,” he mutters, and grabs the other side of the mattress.

They muscle it down the hall to the den and Pekka holds it steady while Juuse kicks the T-shirts out of the way so they can lay it down.

“Sheets,” Pekka says aloud. _A layer of plastic would probably help too,_ he muses as he heads back to his bedroom. Oh well, he’ll just burn the whole thing after and buy a new one. When he picks up the sheets and turns, Juuse is right there, smiling beatifically at him. Pekka manages not to squeak, but Juuse’s smile widens anyway. “Make yourself useful and grab the pillows,” Pekka tells him grumpily.

Once the sheets are on, Pekka turns the rest over to Juuse, who springs into action, arranging the shirts to his satisfaction. Pekka hides his grimace at the smell of men’s sweat and grungy clothing, but the worst of it fades after a few minutes and he decides he can cope. Especially because Juuse is rolling blissfully around on the mattress, the shirts wrapped around him like a smelly cocoon.

Pekka can’t help his laugh, and Juuse grins up at him and holds out a hand. Pekka accepts the invitation and sinks to the mattress. Juuse is there immediately, wrapping himself around Pekka like a clinging vine. His head fits perfectly under Pekka’s chin, and Pekka closes his eyes and pushes away the tiny voice that whispers _you could have this forever._

“Is this good?” he asks quietly instead.

Juuse nods. He’s wedged one leg between Pekka’s thighs and his breathing is slow and even. He’s already half-asleep, judging by the way he’s gone heavy and limp against Pekka’s frame.

A nap sounds good, Pekka decides, and lets himself go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is flowing really well, so have a chapter ahead of schedule!
> 
> (Note: _kulta_ means gold, and it's a common Finnish endearment. _Kulti_ means the same thing but is a less formal version.)
> 
> (Second note: Google Translate is my friend, but it's the kind of friend that stiffs you on the bar tab and "forgets" to chip in for dinner. Ara is my knight in shining Finnish armor and has helped fix hopefully all of my mistakes. If anything else is wrong, it's definitely on me.)

He wakes to Juuse grinding slowly against his thigh. Pekka freezes, and Juuse kisses his throat, his mouth soft and wet.

They hadn’t talked about sex, Pekka realizes wildly. He knows some goalies nest without it, but that the majority _do,_ that it helps solidify the bond and settle the nesting instinct. He’s done it both ways, himself, and he knows from experience that sex with a nest-mate helps steady the nesting one, ground them and keep them more stable.

“J-Juuse,” he manages. His body’s already responding, and Juuse makes an encouraging noise and somehow pushes closer. Still— “Are you sure, _pikkuinen?”_

Juuse cups Pekka’s erection, lifting his head. There’s something like a challenge in his eyes, and Pekka can’t help himself. He kisses him, licking deep into Juuse’s mouth, laying claim in quick, sweeping strokes.

Juuse kisses back, surging up so their faces are level and making tiny noises deep in his chest that shoot straight to Pekka’s groin.

 _“Naida,”_ Pekka gasps, and rolls them so Juuse is on his back and Pekka’s on top of him, half-braced on one elbow. He lowers his head to kiss him again and Juuse winds both arms around his neck. His kisses are sloppy and inexperienced, and Pekka loves it. “Take your clothes off,” he manages as he works his way down Juuse’s jaw, licking and nipping.

Juuse doesn’t obey immediately, and Pekka looks up. Is he already so deep that he can’t even understand him? But Juuse’s eyes are clear, his hands steady as he tries to pull Pekka back into another kiss.

Pekka goes, laughing against his mouth. “Clothes, _kulta._ I think you’ll like this.”

Juuse makes an annoyed noise but lets him go and drags his shirt off. Pekka helps him with his pants, tugging them down over his lean hips and dropping them on the floor beside them. Juuse is flushed all over, from his throat all the way to his groin, his cock dark red and dripping slowly onto his belly.

Pekka’s mouth waters, but he has other ideas. “Roll over.”

Juuse narrows his eyes but he obeys, settling on his stomach and resting his cheek on crossed arms.

“God,” Pekka breathes reverently. He’s seen Juuse naked, of course he has. But never like this, spread out like an offering before him. Pekka’s allowed to _touch_ now, to worship Juuse’s body the way it deserves to be, and he can’t _wait_ to get started.

He palms Juuse’s ass in one big hand, squeezing and kneading the muscle. Juuse sighs happily and pushes back into it, and Pekka smacks him lightly with his free hand.

“Be still,” he orders, and Juuse shudders all over.

Pekka takes his time, straddling Juuse’s thighs and letting his hands roam. Juuse’s skin is like silk, the steel of his ribs curving under Pekka’s hands.

“So beautiful,” Pekka whispers, and plants a kiss on Juuse’s shoulder blade. He repeats the motion on the other side, keeping his weight centered on Juuse’s hips. He knows from his own experiences that Juuse needs to feel grounded right now. If Pekka had some rope, he’d tie him up. He files that intriguing thought away for further exploration later and moves down, kissing along Juuse’s spine.

Juuse is trembling, he realizes suddenly, and he lifts his head, alarmed.

_“Kulta?”_

Juuse says nothing—he _can’t,_ Pekka knows, but he gropes blindly for Pekka’s wrist and pulls until Pekka lowers himself onto Juuse’s prone body, covering him completely.

 _He’s scared,_ he realizes with a rush of guilt. _Of course he is. This is all new to him._

“I know it’s scary,” Pekka murmurs against the shell of Juuse’s ear. “But I’ll take care of you. I promise. You’re safe.”

Juuse takes a shaky breath and turns his head. The angle is awkward, but Pekka kisses the edge of his mouth, whispering endearments against his skin until Juuse’s trembling eases.

“Do you want me to keep going?” he asks when Juuse’s breathing is steady again.

Juuse nods, burying his face in his arms, and Pekka is forced to kiss his shoulder, because it’s there and it’s so beautiful, angular and freckled and perfect, and he’s _allowed._ He might never get this chance again, and he’s going to take full advantage, as much as Juuse wants and will accept.

He kisses his way back down Juuse’s spine, savoring the feel of the knobbly bumps of bone under his mouth. When he reaches the swell of his ass, he slows even more, despite the urgency of his body, and takes hold of one cheek in each hand. He spreads them gently, giving Juuse time to react, but he doesn’t move except to cover his head with his arms.

Pekka leans back enough to enjoy the view, the ring of puckered muscle flexing, and can’t help leaning in. He licks one broad stripe across it and then blows, laughing quietly when Juuse yelps.

“Good?” he asks, and waits for Juuse’s shaky nod before going back to it.

He’s glad, distantly, that they’re doing this now, before Juuse’s mental capacity devolves to the point that he can’t understand or answer Pekka’s questions. Knowing Juuse wants this, that it’s not just his body responding, makes Pekka feel better about setting about licking the area thoroughly, until it’s dripping wet and Juuse is writhing beneath him.

“Just wait,” Pekka promises, vaguely aware he’s slipped into Finnish. “It gets even better, I promise.”

Juuse whines, high and helpless, and Pekka pops a finger into his own mouth, getting it as wet as possible and then pressing it against Juuse’s hole, pushing until it slips inside. Juuse goes rigid, clutching at the pillows, his hips making small, helpless jerking motions against the mattress.

Pekka slides deeper, murmuring encouragement in fragmented Finnish and English. Juuse is velvet-soft and blood hot, clenching around his finger as if trying to draw it further in. Pekka presses a hand to his own groin, hissing under his breath. He’s had a lot of sex in his life, often while nesting, and he’s _never_ seen anything as hot as this, Juuse squirming beneath him, his breath harsh in his throat.

“Lube,” he says aloud, and Juuse whimpers. He manages to free a hand from its death-grip on the pillow and grabs for Pekka’s wrist. Pekka covers it with his free hand. “I’ll be right back, _kulta._ Can you wait for me?”

Juuse swallows audibly and slowly lets go. Pekka rewards him with a kiss to the base of his spine as he slides his finger free and scrambles off the bed. He _runs_ for his bedroom and the bedside table that holds his toys, swearing under his breath until he comes up triumphant with the lube, grabbing some condoms as well, just in case.

He takes an extra thirty seconds to shed his own clothes and then hurries back. Juuse is in the same position, grinding his hips against the bed. His eyes are damp and desperate when he sees Pekka, and he holds out a hand.

“Okay,” Pekka says, sliding back onto the mattress. “I’m here, I’m here.” He bends to kiss him, brief and clumsy, before settling himself back between Juuse’s thighs. “Can you take two?” he asks, kissing the dimple just above Juuse’s left buttock.

Juuse nods frantically, raising his hips to give Pekka a better angle. Pekka coats his fingers with the lube and drips more on Juuse’s ass. Then he grips Juuse’s left hip and presses two fingers against his hole.

They slide in easily, making Pekka swear under his breath at the ease with which Juuse takes him.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “So beautiful, lovely boy.” He presses deeper and crooks his fingers, grinning as Juuse’s back bows up off the bed and he makes a strangled noise. “Good?”

Juuse sags back to the mattress, breath wet and rattling in his throat. He pushes back against Pekka’s hand, and Pekka takes the hint.

Juuse’s body accepts the third finger almost as easily, tension in every line of his lovely, lean muscles. Pekka bends, hand still pumping steadily in and out, and kisses the dimple again. He recognizes the signs of impending orgasm, the shortened breath, the clawing at the sheets, the way he can’t relax.

“You can come,” Pekka tells him, still moving. “Come for me, _kulti,_ let me see.”

Juuse locks up, viselike grip around Pekka’s hand, and sobs out loud, hips jerking helplessly. Pekka eases him through it, murmuring in Finnish until Juuse collapses in a heap. Then he gently pulls his hand out and wipes it on the discarded shirt beside them on the floor before rolling Juuse over onto his back.

Pekka snugs himself up close to Juuse’s side, searching for signs of distress. He finds none. There’s peace in the sleepy smile Juuse gives him, in the way he curls into Pekka’s warmth, the loose lines of his body.

“Okay, sweet one,” Pekka whispers, and kisses him on the forehead. He himself still needs to come, somewhat desperately, but as far as he knows, no one’s ever died from a denied orgasm, and holding Juuse takes precedence.

 

It’s not long, though, before Juuse’s hand wanders down, tracing over Pekka’s ribs—laughing quietly at how that makes Pekka twitch—and lower, sliding across his belly. Pekka’s erection had flagged but it wakes as Juuse explores, tentative touches and careful strokes, teeth set in his lower lip and a frown of concentration on his face.

His grip is too light to really get Pekka anywhere, but it feels good, and it’s _Juuse_ touching him, and Pekka lets himself sink into it, eyes closing of their own accord even as he tries to watch Juuse’s face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, and Juuse blinks, then smiles and ducks his head, pressing his face to Pekka’s throat. Pekka kisses his hair and then reaches down, covering Juuse’s hand and stopping him. There are still some things to clear up. He can’t help kissing away the frown that gets him. “Just let me say this and then you can do whatever you want to me.”

Juuse’s eyes light up at that and he waits patiently as Pekka gathers the words.

“We didn’t get much time to talk,” he begins. “If I could have—I’d rather you went into this knowing what to expect. It’s no wonder you were scared.”

Juuse’s expression clouds and he squirms in close, pulling Pekka down into a fierce kiss.

“Mmf—I know,” Pekka says, half-laughing when Juuse’s finally released him. “You’re not anymore. I know. But you _were,_ because we weren’t able to talk first.”

Juuse shrugs, trailing a finger up Pekka’s arm.

“You’ve been pretty on track so far,” Pekka tells him. “So you should have another day and a half, maybe two days, of being nonverbal but aware. And then you’ll hit…” He hesitates.  “Some call it rut, but it doesn’t _have_ to include sex.  The important thing to know is that you won’t be able to communicate with me during that time. And being away from me will be physically painful for you. It’s like—” He hesitates again, looking for words. “It’s like you go away in your head for a bit. You won’t be aware of anything except your nest, and… me.”

Juuse looks miserable and worried, brow furrowed and mouth drooping.

“I’ll be there,” Pekka hastens to say. “I won’t leave you, not for a _minute_ if that’s what you need. You’ll be okay, I promise.”

Juuse nods, jaw firming, and crowds close for another kiss. His hand slides downward again and he makes a pleading noise.

“Yeah,” Pekka says breathlessly. “Yeah, if that’s what you want.” He covers Juuse’s hand with his own. “Like this,” he says, and shows him how he likes it—firm and tight and with a steady rhythm.

Juuse’s a fast learner. He catches on within a few strokes and Pekka lets his hand fall, struggling to breathe.

“Oh fuck, _fuck_ that feels good, Juuse—”

Juuse hums, clearly pleased, but then he stops.

Pekka groans, forcing his eyes open. “Why?” he asks plaintively.

Juuse rolls to his back and tugs on Pekka’s arm. His goal is obvious, especially considering the blinding smile Pekka gets when he crawls on top of him.

“This what you want?” he murmurs, and Juuse nods, wrapping his arms around Pekka’s neck and pulling him down into another kiss. They make out for a while, languid and slow despite the urgency of Pekka’s hard-on, but finally Juuse pushes him away, just far enough that he can spread his legs. Then he beckons, and Pekka’s heart rate doubles.

“You want—”

Juuse nods again.

“You want me to fuck you?” Pekka asks. “Are you sure?”

Juuse rolls his eyes, and Pekka can’t help the laugh.

“You can’t talk right now, _kulti,_ forgive me for making sure I’m doing what you want.”

Juuse tilts his hips, a challenge in his eyes. He’s already getting hard again, and Pekka’s mouth waters.

“At least one of these times, I’m going to suck your dick until you forget your own name,” he promises as he settles between Juuse’s spread thighs.

He takes his time, running reverent hands over the lean muscle, mapping the feel of tendon and bone under his fingers, until Juuse is squirming impatiently and making frustrated noises. Finally, Pekka leans over and grabs a condom and rolls it into place. Juuse watches with hungry eyes, propped on his elbows, until Pekka is sheathed and leaning over him, pushing him flat again with a gentle hand.

“If you liked what we did before—” Juuse nods fervently, and Pekka laughs. “Then you’re going to love this. Bear down when I push in, okay?”

Juuse nods again and Pekka slathers himself with lube and lines up. It takes a minute—even with the prep he’d done earlier, it’s clear Juuse’s not used to this, and Pekka doesn’t want to rush him. But he pushes forward, slow and steady, and they both gasp as the head of his cock slips past the ring of muscle.

“Okay?” Pekka checks.

Juuse’s nod is shaky but he pulls at Pekka’s arms, an obvious demand for him to keep going.

 _I love you._ Pekka keeps his mouth shut so the words won’t escape, sliding deeper into the silken clutch of Juuse’s body.

Juuse is breathing hard, tendons standing out in his neck, back arched up off the bed as he struggles to adjust. Pekka gives him time, working his way in slowly, a centimeter at a time. When he bottoms out, Juuse makes a noise like a sob, pulling him down. The kiss is messy and desperate, and Pekka gentles and slows it, cradling Juuse’s face with both hands, stroking his dark hair off his forehead.

“Breathe,” he whispers. “Is it too much?”

Juuse catches his breath and shakes his head. He’s flushed all the way to his scalp, shivering all over, and his pupils are blown, only a thin ring of brown showing. His mouth moves as if he’s trying to speak, and Pekka can’t help kissing him again. Juuse hooks a heel around his hips and yanks sharply, the message clear.

“If you insist,” Pekka says, and pulls out almost all the way, watching how Juuse shudders at the sensations and then slamming back in. Juuse’s spine arches and he cries out wordlessly. Pekka braces himself and goes to work, keeping a steady rhythm as Juuse writhes on his dick, tears leaking from his eyes.

“Too much,” Pekka says in Finnish again. “Too beautiful. Look how hard you are for me.” He grasps Juuse’s shaft and strokes in time with his thrusts, and Juuse’s noises take on a helpless, desperate edge.

He grabs at Pekka when he comes, arching up off the bed and spilling between them, sticky-hot and so tight, Pekka is helpless to do anything but follow him over the edge, bliss shuddering through him.

They collapse back to the mattress in a tangled heap, breathing like they’ve been bag-skated. Pekka’s head is on Juuse’s chest, and he can hear his heartbeat, rabbit-fast and soft under his ear.

Juuse sighs and strokes Pekka’s hair. When Pekka finally gathers the strength to look up, to see how he’s doing, Juuse’s already asleep. Pekka laughs quietly and gets up. As much as he wants to nap too, the time to clean up and make food is when Juuse’s asleep and won’t miss him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Arabwel for Finnpicking for me! Any further mistakes are mine alone.

It’s early morning, he realizes when he leaves the den. They’ve lost complete track of time. No wonder he’s hungry—Juuse must be starving. He’s showered, dressed in comfortable clothes, and in the kitchen making food when he hears a noise. Running for the den, Juuse bursts through the door and collides with him, grasping desperately at him like he’s not sure he’s real.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Pekka says, holding him close. Juuse is still naked, trembling like he had the morning before, and Pekka is swamped with remorse. “I’m sorry,  _ pikkuinen, _ I went to make food. Do you want to shower before we eat?”

Juuse’s brow knits, as if parsing the words. Finally he nods, and Pekka steers him gently toward the master bathroom. He doesn’t take long, and he allows Pekka to wrap him in a fluffy towel after but refuses clothes.

“They don’t feel good now, do they?” Pekka asks, smiling at him. “They always feel like sandpaper on my skin at a certain point.”

Juuse nods and drops the towel on the floor, padding out of the bathroom bare-ass naked. Pekka sighs, hangs up the towel, and follows him.

He finds him in the kitchen, perched on a stool.

“We’re going to have to Lysol this entire house,” Pekka mutters, and Juuse beams at him. 

He eats everything Pekka puts in front of him—French toast for carbs and lots of red meat. Juuse devours it all and Pekka watches him eat, chin on his hand. 

“To have your metabolism again,” he murmurs. “Not to mention your refractory period.”

Juuse doesn’t seem to register what he’s saying, tearing into another piece of bread, and Pekka narrows his eyes. 

“Juuse,” he says.

Juuse blinks at him.

“Can you understand me?” Pekka asks.

Juuse blinks at him again.

Pekka swears under his breath. “It’s been a  _ day, _ how are you already hitting this stage?”

Juuse grabs yet another piece of French toast and shoves half of it into his face.

“Okay, I’m gonna—try something,” Pekka says, and backs out of the kitchen. He hasn’t even made it to the door before Juuse’s scrambling off the stool to follow him, looking distressed. “Fuck,” Pekka mumbles. Juuse crowds close and Pekka wraps his arms around him automatically. “Well,” he says, forcing a smile into his voice, “looks like we’re joined at the hip for awhile.”

Juuse tips his face up, an arm snaking around Pekka’s neck to pull him down into a kiss. Pekka goes willingly, stroking a thumb over his cheekbone. If he could just have this,  _ keep _ this—Pekka pushes the thought away again. When Juuse comes to his senses, this will end. It has to, for Juuse’s sake.

But for now—Juuse is pulling him toward the den, purpose in his eyes, and Pekka can’t help his laugh as he follows.

 

The next two days are a blur. Juuse can’t bear to let Pekka out of the bed except for the bathroom and to bring food back, close on his heels the entire time.

“I  _ can _ piss without supervision, you know,” Pekka tells him at one point.

Juuse hums and wraps his arms around Pekka’s waist from behind, pressing his face against Pekka’s spine.

It gets boring fast. Not being with Juuse—Pekka suspects he’ll never get tired of that, even when Juuse can’t talk. But being stuck in the den, very little in the way of entertainment, becomes dull very quickly. And the sex—Pekka loves the sex. He  _ does _ . But sometimes, he feels his age, when they’ve gone three rounds and Juuse’s kissing his throat for the fourth and Pekka thinks vaguely that his dick might actually fall off.

He reaches breaking point on the morning of the second day. Juuse had barely slept the night before, almost frantic with need. It had taken everything Pekka had just to keep up, and he’d just fallen into a fitful doze when Juuse begins kissing down his chest again.

Pekka moans. “Juuse,” he says. “Juuse please, please sweetheart, stop—”

Juuse doesn’t seem to hear him. He’s mouthing at Pekka’s soft cock, sucking it in and running his tongue around the ridges, eyes blissfully closed.

Pekka covers his face as tears prick his eyelids. He can’t do this. He  _ can’t. _ He’s exhausted, mentally and physically, and he has no more to give. He’s too old, too worn out. He can’t keep up with a twenty-four-year old and he was a fool to have ever thought he could. He should have  _ insisted _ Juuse choose someone else, someone who could take care of him properly. He makes a noise, a little hiccuping sob, and Juuse jerks his head up, worry writ large on his face.

Pekka does his best to summon a smile. “I’m okay,” he manages, scrubbing his eyes. “Sorry,  _ kulti, _ what do you need?”

Instead of continuing, though, Juuse scrambles up Pekka’s body to cup his face, gazing down at him. Pekka can’t help smoothing away the wrinkle on Juuse’s forehead.

“Show me what you need, baby,” he whispers.

“Pekka.”

Pekka freezes. “Did you just—you  _ did, _ you just said my name, are you back? Juuse, can you understand me?”

Juuse’s still searching his face, no glimmer of comprehension there. “Pekka,” he says again, and bends to kiss him. “Pekka,” he breathes, and kisses along his jaw. 

“You’re not back,” Pekka says. He can’t figure out if he’s disappointed or relieved. “How are you saying my name, then?”

Juuse lifts his head. “Pekka,” he says clearly, and beams like the sun coming up.

_ “God, _ I love you,” Pekka blurts, and pulls him down into another kiss. Thank God Juuse can’t understand anything right now or he’d really be in trouble, but just being able to say it has lifted a weight off his chest. When he reaches for Juuse’s hard shaft, though, Juuse gently bats his hand away and sits up.

He pushes Pekka flat to the bed and swings a leg over, straddling his hips. Pekka gazes up at him as Juuse wriggles, getting comfortable, and then takes hold of himself.

“Pekka,” he gasps, hand moving steadily, and Pekka can’t help touching him, smoothing his palms over Juuse’s muscled thighs, up his flat abdomen as far as he can reach.

_ “Sä oot niin kaunis,” _ he whispers. It doesn’t matter that Juuse can’t understand him, that nothing Pekka says right now will get through. All that matters is that they’re there, together, Juuse’s hand moving faster and a flush traveling up his chest as his mouth falls open. “Come then, sweetheart, I want to see it.”

Juuse hunches forward and hot liquid splashes Pekka’s chest. He murmurs encouragement, rubbing Juuse’s thighs, his forearms, anything he can reach, as Juuse shudders through his orgasm and finally collapses, facedown on Pekka’s chest.

Pekka grunts with the weight but holds him steady. Juuse’s soft hair is tickling his nose, his breath warm on Pekka’s collarbone.

“I do love you,” Pekka whispers. “It would be easier if I didn’t.”

Juuse snuffles softly and relaxes into sleep.

 

When they wake up, Pekka’s stomach is growling fiercely. Juuse yawns, stretching, and makes no argument when Pekka gently chivvies him up and down the hall to the bathroom. They share a shower, Juuse’s arms around Pekka’s neck, but he balks when Pekka tries to put clothes on.

“I’m not making  _ you _ wear any,” Pekka tells him as Juuse pulls his boxers away for the third time. “But I need to make food _. _ Aren’t you hungry?”

Juuse whines and holds the boxers out of reach, his eyes pleading.

Pekka laughs helplessly. “I’m  _ not _ cooking naked,  _ muru. _ Give me my damn underwear.” He reaches out and Juuse dances backward. Pekka lunges before Juuse has time to brace, tackling him onto the box springs of his dismantled bed, grabbing for the boxers as Juuse writhes, breathless with laughter, trying desperately to keep them out of reach. Pekka pins his arm and grabs the fabric, yanking it out of Juuse’s hand.

Then he bends, kissing the pout off Juuse’s mouth. “Compromise?” he suggests gently. “Boxers and an undershirt, and then you can take them back off me when we’re done eating.” 

Juuse brightens and kisses him back.

His comprehension is definitely returning, Pekka thinks as he gets dressed and Juuse follows him down the hall to the kitchen. Still not verbal, but able to communicate again.

“Hey,” he says, pulling eggs from the refrigerator. “Can you say my name?”

“Pekka,” Juuse says clearly. He’s perched on the stool again, hands folded in front of him. If he weren’t utterly naked, it would be the picture of domesticity.

“Very good,” Pekka tells him, retrieving the ham. “Can you say anything else yet?”

“Pekka,” Juuse says.

“That’s me,” Pekka agrees. He takes the ham out of the package and grabs a knife to chop it up. “Give it another day, I think you’ll be back.” He’s definitely happy about that, he tells himself. Definitely.

 

He wakes up slowly the next morning. Something feels wrong, different in a way he can’t put a finger on. The den is quiet. Pekka sits up and realizes he’s alone in the room.

Before he can get to his feet, Juuse steps through the door. He’s barefoot, toweling his wet hair and he’s wearing  _ clothes, _ a soft green T-shirt and faded jeans.

“Hey,” he says.

“You’re back?” Pekka says stupidly. He’s still sitting on the mattress, he realizes, and he scrambles to his feet. “You’re back. You’re  _ dressed.” _

Juuse looks down at himself, smiling ruefully. “Was it bad?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Bits and pieces.” Juuse rubs a hand through his still-damp hair. “Did we, uh… have sex, or was that my imagination?”

Pekka opens and closes his mouth. “Yeah, that… happened.”  _ Kind of a lot. _

“Huh,” Juuse says. “And you helped me through it.”

“Well, of course.” Pekka shifts his weight and realizes suddenly that  _ he’s _ naked. He dives for the boxers Juuse had so enthusiastically taken off him the night before and pulls them on, hopping on one foot. “Sorry,” he says.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Juuse says in response.

Pekka blinks. “Which?”

“Was it… bad?”

“For who?”

“You, of course,” Juuse says. He looks worried, suddenly, a wrinkle creasing his brow, and Pekka aches to touch him. He forces his hand to stay at his side.

“It was fine,” he says softly.

“But I—you had to—”

“Had to what?” Pekka asks, baffled.

“I made you have sex with me,” Juuse says in a rush, head down. From what Pekka can see of his expression, he looks almost nauseated with guilt, and Pekka does step forward then, cups Juuse’s face and tilts it up so their eyes meet.

“You didn’t do anything to me or with me that I didn’t  _ want _ to do,” he says.

Juuse swallows hard, searching Pekka’s face. Finally he nods, as if accepting the truth, and steps away. Pekka lets his hand fall, keeping his expression neutral.

“I, uh… made breakfast,” Juuse says. “I’m not as good a cook but… I tried? To thank you, maybe. Or make it up to you.”

“Stop,” Pekka orders, suddenly angry. “You were nesting. You needed me, things  _ from _ me that I was  _ happy _ to give you, do you understand? I  _ wanted _ to help, however you needed. You would do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

Juuse nods immediately, eyes earnest. “Yes, Pekka, of course. I would be honored if you chose me for your nest-mate.”

_ That’ll never happen, _ Pekka doesn’t say. His stomach churns and he takes a deep breath and forces a smile. “I usually just go with Roman, but thank you for the offer. Let’s go eat that breakfast before it gets cold.”

 

“We’ll need to call Coach,” Pekka says as he eats toast that’s only slightly burned around the edges. “Let him know you’re back.” His stomach twists again and he grimaces at the toast in his hand. It isn’t  _ that _ bad, and Juuse looks so happy to see him eating it that Pekka would have willingly eaten a whole loaf, just to keep that smile on his face.

Juuse nods. “I don’t even know where my phone is,” he admits.

“It’s in the bag by the door in the den,” Pekka says. “You probably have a million messages to deal with.”

Juuse makes a face but he’s smiling. “I’ll call Coach when we’re done eating.”

Pekka’s stomach cramps and he drops his toast. “Call him now,” he manages, gripping the counter with both hands.

“Pekka? What is it?”

“Call Coach,” Pekka croaks. “Call him and tell him I’m nesting.”

“Oh  _ fuck,” _ Juuse says, and scrambles for his phone.


	4. Chapter 4

When he comes back, he finds Pekka on his knees on the kitchen floor. Juuse drops the phone and crouches beside him.

“Pekka?”

Pekka’s hands are flat on the floor and he’s heaving for breath. “I need—phone—call Roman—”

Juuse’s up and running for the den and Pekka’s phone immediately, but halfway there the reason  _ why _ Pekka probably needs to call Roman registers and he stops dead.

Pekka’s going to ask Roman to be his nest-mate. Juuse wildly considers calling him first, asking him to say no, but he knows he can’t do that, not and look at himself in the mirror after. He retrieves the phone and runs it back to the kitchen. Pekka nearly drops it, unlocking it with shaking hands, and orders Siri to call Roman, still on his knees.

Juuse aches to stay with him, stroke his back and make him feel better, but he forces himself upright and retrieves his own phone to call Coach. He keeps the call short, trying not to obviously eavesdrop on Pekka’s conversation, but when he’s done and turns, Pekka’s facedown on the floor, phone beside him.

“Pekka!” Juuse drops to his knees. Pekka is pale and sweating, face tight with pain.

“He can’t,” he manages. “H-he can’t, I’m—”

“Choose me,” Juuse begs. “Please, Pekka, I’m right here, let me help you,  _ please—” _

Pekka’s mouth works. “You d-don’t want—”

“I do,” Juuse interrupts. He doesn’t even know what Pekka was going to say. He wants everything of Pekka, every little piece of him, the way he pretends to enjoy Juuse’s terrible toast, his soft snores when he’s utterly exhausted, the pet names he called Juuse during his nesting. “I do, Pekka, please let me, there’s nothing I want more.”

Pekka draws in a wet, ragged breath and nods. Juuse feels the bond settle over his shoulders like an old, comfortable shirt. It’s different from his own nesting—he can think, speak, form words clearly still, for one thing. Everything is in sharper focus, Pekka especially. He can see the tiny blond hairs on Pekka’s arms and the back of his neck, the shift and slide of the muscles under his skin.

“Was it like this for you?” he asks, awed.

“What?” Pekka tries to get up, shaky like a newborn foal, and Juuse hurries to help him. “Juuse, what—” He turns his head and presses his face to Juuse’s chest, wavering on his knees. Juuse holds very still, afraid to breathe and shatter the moment. 

Finally, Pekka takes a breath and manages to get to his feet, still wobbly. Juuse tucks himself in under his arm and steers him down the hall. He hesitates outside the den.

“Do you want to make your own? Hold on, I can clean out my stuff so you can make it—” But Pekka stops him, a hand on his arm. Juuse chews his lip. “You want to use the same room?” Pekka nods. “The same stuff?” Pekka nods again and Juuse shrugs in defeat and opens the door for him.

Pekka takes a deep breath and the stress in his shoulders seeps out as he goes to his knees on the mattress and pushes his face into the shirts piled there. Juuse watches him, unable to hide the smile—Pekka is many things, but he’s rarely adorable, and Juuse’s never seen him so unguarded, the curve of his mouth so sweet. Juuse  _ wants  _ him, with an intensity that’s a little frightening, but he stays still in the doorway.

After a few minutes, Pekka seems to gather his wits. He rolls to his knees and inspects the mattress, grimacing. Then he bounces up and brushes past Juuse, down the hall to Juuse’s room. He’s already got the sheets off by the time Juuse catches up with him, and together they wrestle the mattress back to the den. Pekka insists on holding it, mostly by dint of refusing to let go when Juuse tries to take it, and Juuse accepts the inevitable and grabs the old mattress. For now, he just stands it up against the wall, out of the way so they can put his down.

The minute it’s on the floor, Pekka’s on it, rolling blissfully around on the bare surface.

“We need sheets,” Juuse says, barely holding in his laugh, but Pekka refuses to move.

Juuse remembers this part. He’d wanted Pekka’s mattress because it smelled like him, it  _ felt _ like him somehow. It was like being surrounded on all sides by Pekka, in every way.

And now here’s Pekka, doing the same with Juuse’s mattress.  _ He just wanted a clean one, _ he tells himself, but still there’s a tiny kernel of hope that won’t be crushed in his chest, especially when Pekka opens his eyes and holds out his hand.

Juuse goes gladly and Pekka gathers him close, fitting him up against his lean frame so Juuse’s head is tucked under his chin.

_ Will he want sex? _ Juuse wonders. Pekka’s warm and solid, and Juuse remembers how comforting it was to have his arms wrapped around him in the worst of his nesting. Juuse tightens his grip just a little and presses a dry, soft kiss to the hollow of Pekka’s throat. A craven part of him hopes Pekka wants sex, wants  _ him. _ The thought of him having sex with Roman—doing  _ any _ of this with Roman makes Juuse want to snarl with possessive fury. Pekka is  _ his. _ Pekka is  _ Juuse’s _ nest-mate. Pekka is… asleep.

Juuse manages to get a hand free and pulls his phone out. Pekka had been right—he has roughly a million messages to go through, from the group chat to friends worried about him. He works his way through them as he waits for Pekka to wake up. The group chat especially is thrilled to hear from him.

Filip— _ thought you died, bro! _

Miikka— _ nah, he was just having super hot sex without us.  _

Mikael— _ fuckin rude, man, u didn’t invite us?? _

Calle— _ multiple cry-laughing emojis _

Juuse sends them the finger and closes the chat. He’s got earbuds around somewhere but he can’t find them while Pekka is wrapped around him like an overzealous octopus, so he opens his reading app instead.

He’s deep into the book when Pekka stirs and makes a questioning noise.

“It’s just me,” Juuse says quietly, putting his phone down.

He can feel Pekka relax against him, rubbing his cheek against his hair, and Juuse smiles to himself.

“How are you feeling?”

Pekka doesn’t answer, and Juuse leans back enough to see his face. There’s shame there, he thinks, and he won’t meet Juuse’s eyes. Juuse frowns and looks down. He can feel his eyebrows shooting up when he clocks the bulge in Pekka’s pants, and he looks back up. Pekka’s face is still averted.

“Hey,” Juuse says softly, but Pekka won’t look at him. “Will you look at me?”

Pekka sighs but slowly turns his head until their eyes meet. Juuse smiles at him encouragingly.

“You want sex?” he asks. 

Pekka  _ blushes, _ going bright red all the way to his scalp as he tucks his face against his arm so he doesn’t have to look at Juuse.

Juuse takes a risk and palms his erection. Pekka jerks and gasps, rolling his hips forward before he stops himself and pulls away.

“Okay, sit up,” Juuse orders. “I want to say something.”

Pekka obeys grudgingly, crossing his legs and waiting for Juuse to find the words.

“Sex is part of nesting for you, isn’t it?” Juuse asks.

Pekka stares at his hands. 

_ “Hani, _ you need to answer me.”

Pekka sighs and finally nods. Then shrugs, and makes an ambivalent gesture with his hand.

Juuse stares at him a minute, working it out. “Oh!” he finally realizes. “You mean sometimes you do but not always?”

Pekka nods, the beginning of a smile creeping across his face, and Juuse wants to kiss him. He doesn’t move.

“But you do now, right?”

Pekka shrugs again, face turned away.

It’s Juuse’s turn to sigh. “I can’t read your mind, Pekka. So I’m going to guess what you’re trying to tell me, and you tell  _ me _ if I’m close.” He waits for Pekka’s grudging nod. “So, you do want sex.”

A slow nod, no eye contact.

“And you want it with me?”

Another nod. He’s blushing again, Juuse realizes with delight, going pink all over.

“Would you want it with Roman?” he asks, and holds his breath for the answer.

Pekka hesitates, and then shakes his head.

“Oh thank  _ God,” _ Juuse says, and hurls himself forward, bowling Pekka over backward. He’s already kissing Pekka’s jaw as they land with a bounce, and Pekka grunts, hands coming up to cradle his face. “I want you too,” Juuse tells him between kisses. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, or how you feel about me, but—I want you. Pekka—I  _ really _ want you.”

Pekka squeezes his eyes shut, then rolls them, ending up on top of Juuse, who’s breathless with the movement. The kiss, when it comes, is searing hot and Juuse thinks vaguely that his brain might be melting out his ears at the way Pekka licks deep into his mouth, one hand slipping down between their bodies to rub Juuse’s erection through his jeans. He makes an appreciative noise, thumb stroking the head, and Juuse whimpers.

“Fuck, I wish I could remember more of what we did,” he says, and pushes Pekka just far enough way to unzip his jeans. Pekka’s hand is inside almost immediately, cradling Juuse’s shaft as he nips his way along his jaw and Juuse gasps, arching against him. “More,” he demands, and Pekka laughs soundlessly, lifting enough to drag Juuse’s pants off. Then he scoots down the bed, hot promise in his eyes, and Juuse gulps. “Are you—”

Pekka’s mouth engulfs him before Juuse can finish the sentence. Hot, velvet soft and wet, perfect suction—Juuse shouts, jamming a fist against his mouth to stifle the noise. Pekka wraps his hand around the base of Juuse’s cock, stroking as his mouth works. 

Pekka is possibly the most beautiful man Juuse has ever seen, but he’s never seen him more beautiful than he is right now, his mouth stuffed full of Juuse’s cock, his eyes molten as he gazes up his body, free hand working just out of sight.

“Fuck,” Juuse gasps. “Fuck,  _ fuck, _ I’m already close, I’m—”

Pekka somehow takes him deeper, until the head of Juuse’s cock is bumping the back of his throat and Juuse’s hips are jerking as he struggles to be still.

“Gonna come,” he manages, and Pekka hums and keeps going.

Juuse curls up off the bed with the force of his orgasm, crying out as it rips through him and Pekka swallows it all, not slowing or gentling his movements until Juuse collapses back to the bed in a limp heap, ribs heaving. Then he pulls off and crawls up the bed to straddle Juuse’s thighs. Juuse’s unable to do anything but lie there and watch him, all that long lean muscle of him, his perfect beautiful face taut with concentration as he strokes himself, and Juuse is struck with a sense-memory.

“Did I do this to you?” he asks, and Pekka’s smile is soft, almost tender, as he nods. His breath catches and then he’s coming, Juuse rubbing his thighs as Pekka shudders through it. He slumps forward, off to the side, and Juuse brushes hair off his forehead. “Was it good?”

Pekka moans softly and presses his forehead to Juuse’s shoulder. 

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Juuse informs him. He’s still absently stroking Pekka’s hair, but Pekka doesn’t seem to mind—is in fact relaxing into it with a blissed out sigh. 

“I don’t know how much sex we actually had while I was under,” Juuse says quietly, “but I’m here for you. No matter how much you need or want, I’ll give it to you. I  _ want  _ to give it to you. Will you let me?”

Pekka is still for a long, frozen moment and then he sighs and nods, face still against Juuse’s shoulder. 

“That’s my  _ muru,”  _ Juuse tells him, and laughs out loud at the outrage on Pekka’s face when he lifts it to glare at him. “Pet names go both ways,” he says, and drops a kiss on his nose. “We need to shower, and eat.” He rolls upright and fumbles for his phone, forgotten on the floor, and opens the food delivery app. “What are you in the mood for?”

Pekka crowds up close behind him, folding himself along Juuse’s back and hooking his chin over his shoulder. He watches as Juuse scrolls through the options and then points.

“Oh, good choice.” Juuse turns his head and briefly presses their cheeks together. “Too bad there’s no good Finnish food in Nashville, huh?”

Pekka hums and waits as Juuse places the order, then pulls him to his feet and down the hall to the shower.

 

Juuse spends the first two days watching TV with Pekka wrapped around him. After the first time they have sex, Pekka initiates about once a day, in the morning both days. He doesn’t seem to want much—he likes blowing Juuse and he’s happy with Juuse’s handjobs. Juuse gives everything he asks for and very carefully doesn’t wish for more. The rest of the time they spend with Pekka curled in his nest, usually touching Juuse, although he’s content as long as Juuse is within eyesight.

Juuse catches up on TV shows he’s been meaning to watch and reads when he gets bored of the television. He’s dying to go outside, get some fresh air, but Pekka can’t get further from his nest than the kitchen. Juuse can wait. Pekka’s needs are more important.

Even nonverbal, Pekka is very communicative, so it’s a shock on the third day when Juuse asks him what he wants for breakfast and Pekka, on his stomach beside him with an arm draped over Juuse’s ribs, looks at him blankly.

“Shit,” Juuse says, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I don’t remember what you called it. Um. You’re under, aren’t you? Can you understand me?”

Pekka nuzzles Juuse’s shoulder, lips soft. Juuse lets him for a minute, enjoying the simple intimacy, but then his stomach growls and he sighs. 

“Gotta eat something,  _ hani. _ Come on.” He thinks he can manage eggs and toast—he’s convinced the toaster has a personal vendetta, but he’s on the verge of conquering it, he can  _ feel _ it. He gathers himself to stand and Pekka makes a wounded noise as he does, curling into a ball. Juuse stares down at him for a minute. “Pekka, what is it?” 

Pekka curls into a tighter ball in answer. Juuse sinks to his knees and puts a hand on Pekka’s shoulder.

_ “Hani?” _

The second Juuse touches him, the tension seeps from Pekka’s shoulders. He drags in a shaky breath and worry crawls through Juuse’s chest. He lifts his hand and Pekka moans again.

“Well, fuck,” Juuse says, and takes Pekka’s hand. “Okay. How’s this?”

Predictably, Pekka doesn’t answer, but his body eases and the lines of pain on his face are fading. 

“Of course you need to be touched at all times,” Juuse tells him, but he can’t help his laugh. “You’re special, aren’t you?”

Pekka tugs him into a kiss, threading his free hand into Juuse’s hair. His breath is warm, lips soft, and he kisses sweet and slow, no urgency to it at all. Juuse sighs against his mouth and cradles Pekka’s face.

He wants this—wants  _ Pekka. _ All of him, not just when either of them is nesting. He wants everything Pekka has to offer, for the rest of his life. And he knows he won’t get it. Pekka doesn’t want the same thing. Pekka wants someone with life experience, someone who knows what they’re doing. He didn’t even want to  _ nest _ with Juuse, for Christ’s sake.

Juuse breaks away from the kiss, pressing their foreheads together and struggling to breathe. Pekka makes a noise and slips his hands under Juuse’s shirt, tipping forward so his face is tucked into the crook of Juuse’s throat. He’s not looking for sex, though, Juuse realizes quickly. He’s just… touching him, exploring the curves and dips of his body with clever fingertips, breathing on Juuse’s skin and making him shiver. Juuse squeezes his eyes shut. He will  _ not _ cry. He will take care of Pekka, keep him safe and grounded, and never say a word about his own feelings. Pekka deserves better, anyway.

“Come on,” he says, and is dimly grateful that Pekka’s too deep under to hear the tears in his voice. “Let’s go eat.”


	5. Chapter 5

Figuring out how to cook with Pekka attached to him is… a challenge. Every time Juuse needs to turn around, reach for something, Pekka’s in the way, arms around Juuse’s neck or snugged up against his hip.

It doesn’t take long for Juuse to give up and dig his phone out again.

 

He opens the door to the delivery driver with Pekka plastered up against his back, chin hooked over his shoulder and arms around his waist. The driver, a pretty Indian girl, blinks.

“Is he—”

“Nesting?” Juuse says, accepting the food. “Yeah. Be glad he’s not naked.”

The driver giggles and Juuse gives her an extra-large tip before closing the door.

 

They eat in the den, and halfway through the meal, Pekka stops eating to pull off his shirt and pants. Once he’s naked, he sits back down cross-legged on the mattress and returns to eating.

Juuse watches, amused. He’s got one foot pressed against Pekka’s shin to keep him grounded, but he’s slouching against the couch, breakfast in his lap.

He loves looking at Pekka, the long, lean lines of him. He’s always reminded him of a big cat, sleek and deadly. Juuse traces the faint scars on his hip from his arthroscopy, remnants of his battle wounds.

“You’ve been through so much,” he murmurs.

Pekka, mouth full of breakfast burrito, pats Juuse’s foot.

“It makes sense,” Juuse continues. “That you don’t want me—not really. I’m too young for you, aren’t I?”

Pekka tilts his head, brow furrowing. Juuse forces a smile.

“Everything’s okay,” he says, keeping his voice soothing. _Everything except I’m in love with someone who doesn’t love me back._ He swallows tears and turns on the television. Maybe some campy sci-fi will help distract him.

 

He gathers the mess from breakfast but doesn’t throw it away—Pekka’s fallen asleep beside him, hand loosely around Juuse’s ankle, and Juuse doesn’t want to disturb him. He sits up and feels for his phone, lost somewhere in the bedding. Finally he finds it, wedged under a pillow, and he pulls it out, scrolling through names.

It takes him a few minutes to decide who he wants to talk to. Roman would give good advice but he’d probably be all fatherly about it, never mind that he’s only a few years older. And he’d also have something to say about ‘the good of the team’, and Juuse isn’t in the mood to hear it. He skips PK for much the same reason and also because he doesn’t feel like being chirped about his ‘crush’ for the next decade.

He eventually settles on Miikka.

_How do you know if you’re in love with someone?_

Miikka’s response is fast. _The nausea and vomiting gives it away, usually._

Juuse glares at his phone. _I’m serious._

 _Never been in love,_ Miikka tells him. _I don’t know, man. You think he feels the same way?_

 _I know he doesn’t._ Juuse absently rubs the spike of pain in his chest as he hits Send.

_You sure?_

_No chance._

Miikka’s clearly useless. Maybe Juuse should Google ‘how to fall out of love’. He’s halfway through tapping it out when Pekka stirs.

“Hey, _äijä,”_ Juuse greets him, trying to sound cheerful. “Good nap?”

Pekka rolls upright and straddles Juuse in one quick move. Juuse leans back against the couch to give him room to work. Pekka’s eyes are sharp and focused and he has Juuse’s shirt off in seconds. Juuse lifts his hips invitingly, as much as he can, but Pekka doesn’t go for his pants. He bends and kisses down Juuse’s throat, letting his lips linger. Juuse lets his head drop back against the cushions and closes his eyes. He thinks faintly that this is somehow a worse torture than not having Pekka at all, like having a fragment, a shadow of him, something that slips through his fingers when he tries to hold onto it.

Pekka kisses his abdomen and Juuse lets the first tear fall, wiping it away quickly before it’s seen. He wants to run, hide from the world, pretend feelings had never been invented. But Pekka needs him, and Juuse… Juuse would do anything for Pekka.

 

Despite how deeply under Pekka is, they make love slowly, time dissolving around them until it’s just them in their nest, their hands on each other, lips and tongues lavishing kisses on skin. Somewhere along the way, Juuse loses his pants, but Pekka doesn’t seem to want to blow him again. He nudges Juuse’s thighs apart, eyes still keen, and Juuse gulps and nods.

“Let me… let me get myself ready.”

Flat on his back on the mattress, he coats his fingers with lube and opens himself up as Pekka watches, running hungry hands up and down Juuse’s thighs. Juuse’s up to two fingers, the angle awkward, and then Pekka’s slipping a finger in alongside his and Juuse arches his back and gasps. He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry, though, fingering Juuse’s rim and sliding his finger in and out in slow, tortuous drags until Juuse’s heaving for air, desperate for him.

But even once the condom is on and Pekka is settled in place, pressing deep, he refuses to speed up the pace. He sinks to the hilt, holding Juuse down as he works his way in inch by inch, eyes never wavering on Juuse’s face.

“Pekka,” Juuse chokes, and Pekka smiles at him and begins to move.

It feels like saying goodbye. Like the last time they’ll touch. Somewhere in the middle, Juuse realizes he’s crying, tears streaming down his face as Pekka fucks him, slow and strong and as inexorable as the tide, the pleasure washing and swelling through Juuse’s body.

Pekka bends and kisses the tears off his cheeks, hips still working. Juuse wants desperately to come, but he knows when he does, this perfect, crystalline moment will be over. He’ll never have this again. Never have _Pekka_ again. So he holds on, keeping his orgasm back with gritted teeth, and pulls Pekka into another bruising kiss.

But nothing lasts forever, and Pekka wraps a hand around Juuse’s shaft as he works a bruise into his throat, teeth sharp on Juuse’s skin, and Juuse sobs helplessly as his ecstasy crests over him, dragging him down, down into the deep.

 

He wakes up alone, and he knows before Pekka steps through the door, wearing jeans and a Preds T-shirt. Juuse sits up, wincing at the pull of abused muscles, and worry flashes across Pekka’s face.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, and Juuse shakes his head no, dredging up a smile. It’s pitifully weak but it’s all he can muster as he drops his eyes. “Juuse,” Pekka says, kneeling in front of him. His eyes are so earnest, so worried and kind, and Juuse almost reaches for him before he stops himself. “I want to say something,” Pekka whispers, and what feels like hope surges through Juuse’s chest as he looks up. “Thank you,” Pekka says. “I know that wasn’t easy for you. I’m sorry it was necessary.”

Juuse gapes at him. “I _told_ you I’d be honored—” he starts, but Pekka cuts him off.

“I didn’t want to ask it of you. So I’m sorry. For that.”

Juuse curls in on himself, wrapping his arms around his waist. “‘S fine,” he mumbles to his lap.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Pekka sighs. “I fucked it up. Fucked _us_ up. Can you forgive me?”

Juuse can’t bear it anymore. He surges to his feet, making Pekka scramble backward. “There’s nothing. To forgive,” he spits, and bolts from the den.

He heads straight for his room. Locking the door behind him makes him feel a little like a rebellious teenager, but he doesn’t care. He turns the shower as hot as it will go and stands under the needle spray, eyes closed as he scrubs dried lube and come off his skin in vicious motions. It’s worse than he’d even thought. Pekka was horrified at what they’d done together, could barely stand to look at Juuse now.

Well, Juuse can solve _that_ problem, at least temporarily. He dries off perfunctorily and throws on clothes, then steps into shoes and grabs his keys. He doesn’t bother to tell Pekka he’s leaving on his way out the door.

 

It’s close to midnight before he comes home. He’d left his phone in his mad dash from the house, and he finds it on the kitchen counter next to a note in Pekka’s neat handwriting.

 _I made makaronilaatikko,_ it reads, and Juuse’s mouth waters. He hasn’t had that in ages. _It’s in the fridge. You can take the car to practice tomorrow. I’ll ride with Roman._

Juuse slaps the note back on the counter. That’s not good enough, so he snatches it up and crumples it, then hurls it across the kitchen. It bounces off a cupboard and Juuse grabs his head, struggling to hold in the anguish and fury roaring through him.

_Stupid, noble, self-sacrificing Pekka, always taking care of him. Always knowing what’s best, what Juuse needs._

Juuse stalks down the hall. The door to the den is open and he stops, startled at the sight of it restored to exactly the way it had been before this whole thing began. The couch is back in place, neither mattress to be seen, and the room is pristine.

He moves past it, heading for his room. There’s a brand-new mattress on his bed, with brand-new linens on them, everything tucked in neatly and waiting for him. It’s like the whole thing never happened.

Juuse is abruptly _finished._ Fury swamps the grief and it gutters, drowned by a wave of anger so strong his vision doubles briefly. He spins and storms out of his room, down the hall to Pekka’s suite.

He hits the door with his fist, some version of knocking, and then shoves it open without waiting.

Pekka is scrambling upright in his bed when Juuse stalks in.

“What—” He looks exhausted in the light from the hall, and Juuse stamps hard on the flicker of guilt. “Juuse, what’s wrong?”

 _“Everything,”_ Juuse snarls, and Pekka goes very still. Juuse clutches at his hair. “I’m so mad at you,” he bursts out, and Pekka nods.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, and Juuse flings out a hand.

“Don’t you _dare_ apologize to me again.”

“But—”

 _“No._ If you tell me you’re sorry one more time for ‘forcing’ any of this on me, I swear to God I’ll walk out of here and go to the GM and ask for a trade. _I’m not fucking around.”_ Juuse falls silent, breathing hard, and Pekka bows his head.

“Say it, then,” he whispers.

“Oh, _fuck_ you,” Juuse spits, and Pekka looks up, startled. “Fuck you and your self-sacrificing bullshit, acting like this whole thing is your fault and a terrible burden placed on me. I nested, Pekka, _I_ did. And I chose you, because there’s no one in the world I’d rather have beside me in my most vulnerable moments.”

Pekka opens his mouth but Juuse rolls right over him.

“And then when _you_ nested, you didn’t even _want_ to choose me. You’d have taken Roman over me. You _tried_ to! You were _forced_ into choosing me as your nest-mate, so if anyone should be apologizing, Pekka, it’s me, for being here when you didn’t want me. I’m sorry I’m not enough for you, I’m sorry I can’t _be_ enough for you.” Tears are abruptly stinging his eyes again and Juuse grinds the heels of his hands against them. _Christ,_ he’s so tired.

“Juuse—” Fabric rustles and footsteps come closer.

Juuse drops his hands and a memory slots into place. Him, collapsed on Pekka’s chest, face buried in his throat as Pekka holds him.

_“I do love you. It would be easier if I didn’t.”_

Juuse opens and closes his mouth. Looks up at Pekka, who’s gazing down at him looking miserable. “You—you love me,” he manages.

It’s Pekka’s turn to gape stupidly. “What? No I don’t. I—what?”

“You told me while I was nesting,” Juuse says. There’s a pressure in his chest, expanding under his ribs with every breath he takes. He thinks he might break apart and he can’t feel his face. “You said ‘I do love you. It would be easier if I didn’t.’ I—I remember.”

Pekka looks like a landed fish, mouth hanging open.

“You love me,” Juuse says, and the pressure in his chest resolves into joy, fizzing and buoyant. “You _love_ me.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Pekka blurts, and claps both hands over his mouth.

Juuse laughs out loud, covering his own mouth with a shaking hand. “Pekka, why didn’t you just _say?”_

“Because,” Pekka says, dropping his hand. “Because I’m old, Juuse. I’m at the end of my career. You’re at the beginning of yours. I could never ask to be part of your world. I couldn’t—I _won’t_ ask you to care for me when you should be focusing on your career.”

Juuse throws his hands in the air. “You are truly the stupidest man alive,” he says.

Pekka blinks. “I—okay?”

“Twelve and a half years, Pekka, twelve and a half years between us. You act like you’re on your deathbed, one foot in the grave, ‘oh Juuse I’m so old I need a minder I couldn’t possibly fall in love with you—’”

“First of all, I don’t sound like that—”

“It’s _nothing,_ ” Juuse says. “And it’s keeping us apart. Do you know—” He swallows hard. “Do you know how much you hurt me?”

Pekka’s in front of him in a flash, hands out as if he wants to touch him. _“Muru,”_ he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

Juuse shakes his head. The whiplash of emotions is making him dizzy, and he sways.

“Come, sit down,” Pekka says, and Juuse lets him guide him to the bed. “Tell me,” Pekka says, settling beside him. “Tell me what I did so I can fix it.”

“You kept us apart because you thought you knew better than me,” Juuse tells him. “Because you’re older and I guess that makes you wiser or something. When you nested with me, I knew I loved you. I knew you were it for me. But then you _apologized_ to me. You made it clear it was a terrible burden you’d forced on me. And I knew we couldn’t be together because you still see me as too young to know my own mind, too—”

Pekka cuts him off with a kiss. It’s messy and desperate and their mouths don’t line up quite right and Juuse can’t breathe through it as he clutches at Pekka’s shirt and Pekka pushes him over backward, until Juuse’s flat on his back with Pekka braced above him.

"I do love you," Pekka tells him, searching his face. "I love you so much, Juuse. But... are you sure you want this, _pikkuinen?”_

Juuse winds both arms around his neck. “I’ve _been_ sure, _äijä._ Now stop being stupid and fucking kiss me already.”

Pekka laughs softly, wonder and joy in his eyes, and bends to obey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple of notes:
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> Juuse on the right, Pekka on the left.
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> Pekka in the ballcap hugging Juuse.
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>  _Muru_ means crumb, it's an affectionate nickname. _Pikkuinen_ means little one, both usually used by older to younger people. (Hence the outrage when Juuse calls Pekka muru at one point.) _Äijä_ means old man, again used affectionately.
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading and enjoying it, I had a really fun time playing with their dynamic! [Come hang out on Tumblr with me](http://greymichaela.tumblr.com) during the off-season while I drown my sorrows in fanfic and my original works. I often take prompts!


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